


Ignis

by neville



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bullying, First Kiss, M/M, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 10:17:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12209235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neville/pseuds/neville
Summary: Marcus Flint is a lot like fire, and Neville is the water with which he douses himself.





	Ignis

Marcus Flint is a lot like fire when he’s angry: flames lick from his skin when he bellows, roaring out gasoline explosions and scattering young Slytherins like mice when they dare to come too close; Neville, of course, stands behinds him and waits, the water for Marcus to douse himself in. He is aware that he’s not _important_ , just a vessel through which Marcus gets to vent his frustrations – and yet he’s so addicted to the process, too, his misty eyes watching as Marcus slams his fist against the sturdy stone walls, his skin coming away bloody.

The greenhouses are their safe space for the aftermath of Marcus’s outbursts, Neville soaking his bloodied hands with a wet washcloth, scrubbing away embedded dirt and leaving his hands roughly clean, pure again, as if he had never made the disdainful mistake of _standing up for_ a pathetic Gryffindor like Neville – and it’s not as if the thought ever leaves him, or anybody else, but the actions dissipate into the air and become nothingness until the next blow lands.

It’s months in the making when Neville finally says something more to him than trying to implore Marcus’s likely nonexistent good side; he looks dejected by the cycle, his growing dark hair wild where it hangs over his face. “Why me?” he asks, without looking up – because if he looked up, that would be it; he would _crack_ , from side to side.

“Cause you’re so fucking small and pathetic,” Marcus grunts; and it’s the same reason that people bully Neville, that he knows, but inverted and twisted – and if either of them understood why, they likely wouldn’t be there. “And a pushover.”

“I’ll miss you,” Neville says, earnestly: and it’s not necessarily just the protection he’ll miss, but everything. The company. Marcus. Slytherin robes fluttering in the wind. The feeling of Marcus’s aura, palpable, _tangible_ when he gets close to Neville, like his nerve cells have all been sparked simultaneously.

“You fucking better,” Marcus growls – but it’s not ominous, not scary, not a _command_ : he just always talks as if his throat has been cut with glass and wasted away with fifty years of cigarette smoke, an old pipe soul long before his time. Neville sometimes dreams he can feel the nineteen fifties when Marcus breathes too close to him, on his neck, the decade pumping through his veins when Marcus’s hands are closed around Neville’s arms.

It is not a surprise when he kisses Neville – they’ve been tiptoeing around it for so long, the guardian and the protected; they’re so connected sometimes by their own trouble that they can feel each other around the grounds – and when they do they always turn up in the same place, waiting. They are each others’ only other.

Does it matter that it’s stupid and fucked up and that Marcus is far too old for Neville? It doesn’t matter when Marcus’s hand is flat against the nape of Neville’s neck, when his cigarette breath is in Neville’s throat, when they’re kissing so hard it feels like they’re planets colliding. It doesn’t matter when they leave, at separate times, never to be seen, never to be associates to anyone but themselves. It doesn’t matter when Marcus comes back for more, deeper, or when he floors a clique of bullies who dared to call Neville an elephant.

It doesn’t matter, because when the year is over, Marcus is gone; and Neville fends for himself, always wishing he could embody that fire. He never learns it – he just waits, waits, and hopes that one day he’ll feel it again, hot against his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to God I don't even know where this ship came from, but now I ship it. Please join me in rarepair hell! Otherwise known as @chrlieweasleys on Tumblr. Or just come and yell at me about anything Harry Potter!


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